


Charlie and Dee Hit the Road

by 6eyes



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Recreational Drug Use, Sharing a Bed, Substance Abuse, sort of, sort of a road trip au but without a destination, they're on the run together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-09-23 23:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9688694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6eyes/pseuds/6eyes
Summary: Dee decides to get out of town. But she ends up with an unexpected companion.





	1. Chapter 1

Dee’s been out of Philly for two hours when she finds him. Plain, grimy gas station off the highway, identical to every other plain, grimy gas station in Pennsylvania. She’s almost empty when she pulls off, in terms of both gas and caffeinated beverages. In fact, Dee is so exhausted that she doesn’t hear the banging noises emanating from the trunk until after she’s stocked up on Red Bull. Her tank is half full when she finally takes notice, startled into alertness by the loud, rhythmic bangs, forceful enough to lift the lid of the trunk by half a centimeter. She practically falls over herself trying to get to the trunk, only to calm herself in order to avoid attracting anyone's attention. The continuous thumping noises are beginning to match the intensity of Dee’s own heartbeat. Slowly, carefully, she opens the trunk, leaning back, terrified of whatever’s inside. God, is this really happening to her? Today, of all goddamn days?

And then she sees him. The last goddamn person in the whole goddamn world she was hoping to goddamn see.

“Dee?”

“Charlie?”

He’s curled up in a ball, face wide, his fist hovering in the air. She’s furious, rage reddening her face and escaping from her throat in the form of a long, guttural groan.

“Get the fuck out of the trunk, Charlie! Oh goddamn it, oh goddamn it, shit! What the fuck are you doing in the trunk?” she growls in his face, exerting all her energy on preventing herself from screaming.

“Um, I was sleeping, Dee, what do you think I was doing in there all night? Where are we, anyway? Whatever, I need to piss.” he says, excruciatingly unbothered. Climbing out of the trunk, he strides off, stretching, into the gas station. Dee is still standing paralysed in front of the trunk when he skips out of the gas station, jogging over to stand next to Dee. “Seriously though, where are we?” he says, slamming the trunk shut and hopping into the passenger’s seat instead of waiting for a reply. After another moment, Dee snaps out of it and joins him in the car. She doesn’t say a word. Instead, she drives.

They’ve driven another 30 miles before either one of them says anything. Charlie’s leaning his forehead against the window, and Dee is surprised he’s not asleep when he starts speaking.

“We’re not in Philly, are we?”

Dee shakes her head. “Duh, we’re not in Philly. Haven’t you been reading the si- nevermind. No. no, we’re not in Philly.” she says, glancing over to him. He isn’t looking at her. Instead, he’s refocused his attention on the road ahead, leaning forward, straining against his seatbelt.

“I’ve never been outside of Philly, you know,” he says. “If we’re not in Philly, then where are we going?” Dee’s ashamed to admit it, but she has no answer to his question.

“We’re going to… the beach. Yeah, we’re going to the beach, Charlie. How does that sound?” She says.

“I don’t know, I’ve never been. Why are we not in Philly, again?” he asks, and once again, she has no answer.

“Why were you in the trunk?” she replies instead, hoping to move the conversation somewhere else.

“Well, Frank had another hooker over, so I stole some downers from him and fell asleep in the trunk of his car. We have a system in place for these things, Dee. Usually he comes and lets me out in the mornings, but obviously that didn’t happen. Why didn’t that happen again, Dee?” Damn, he’s a persistent bastard.

“Look, Charlie, here’s the deal. I’m leaving Philadelphia and I’m never going back. I took Frank’s car because you and that idiot Mac destroyed mine. I’ll drop you off at the nearest Greyhound station and I’ll help you get back to Philly. But you can’t tell the gang that I left or where I’m going. I’m gone.” The words are so heavy in her throat that she has choke them out. But once they’re out there she feels lighter. She’s gone. The syllables stick in her mind, stretch out in front of her, floating in front of the car, pushing her away from Philly, from Paddy’s, from The Gang. It feels good to be gone.

45 minutes later she pulls into the parking lot of a decrepit bus station in Delaware. Charlie’s fast asleep again, looking serene with his head resting against the window. The sun is beginning to set, and the dwindling sunlight is shining on his face. She peers at him for a moment, knowing this will probably be the last time they see each other. Even though she’s glad to get away, it’s bittersweet to say goodbye, especially to Charlie. They make her life a living hell, but the Gang is still her family. Was her family.

She can’t be thinking like this. Paddy’s is the past now. She’s starting her second act and it’s set far, far away from that shithole of a bar. But Charlie’s had a tenderness to him, always has, and she feels a little reluctant to send him back to the bar, just to spend the rest of his life doing dirty work for people who don’t give a shit about him. Now that Dee is gone, he’ll surely become their new favorite target for abuse- something Charlie is all too familiar with.

But Charlie’s strong, stronger than her- he has to be. Besides, he can handle himself. Sort of. Whatever. Dee has to pee.

She walks back to the car with a one-way ticket for a bus back to Philly in one hand and a Monster energy drink in the other. Charlie has rolled down the window and is leaning his whole head outside, watching the horizon carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Yo, Charlie, whatcha lookin at?” She says, approaching him. He whips his head around to face her.

“I saw this really cool bird fly out of that tree over there,” pointing straight towards the woods across from the highway. Dee rolls her eyes.

“OK, well, I got you a bus. It leaves in an hour.” she says, handing him the ticket. He looks down at it reproachfully, examining it.

“Oh, I forgot you- um, it says that the bus is headed for Philly and it leaves at 6:30. Don’t worry, just hold on to it,” she adds. He nods haphazardly. “You want to call Frank?”

“No, no, I don’t. He won’t worry.” He says, eyes still downturned. Dee sighs involuntarily.

“Come on, I’ll wait with you.”  
They’ve been sitting on a bench outside the station for over half an hour, not talking. Every couple minutes Charlie sees a bird, points, watching carefully, and if Dee sees it too she’ll nod in acknowledgement. It’s harmless, idle activity, but it’s enough for them. Dee has to admit that she isn’t interested in the birds- not in the way she’s interested in Charlie. It’s fascinating, the way his face lights up every time he sees another one no matter how many times he’s made the same discovery, how the setting sunlight makes his dark eyes gleam, how he looks at her when he sees one, hoping she’s noticed too, wanting her to derive the same pleasure from the sighting. She doesn’t fully understand why he’s so excited, but the earnestness in his face when he turns toward her is enough to make her smile, nod, and follow the birds, swooping above and around the surrounding woods. Dee thinks it wouldn’t be so bad if Charlie looked at her like he looks at them: admiring, enraptured.

Calm falls over the station as the sun continues to slowly set. A bus- Charlie’s bus- is idling to their left, and a young man is methodically loading cases onto it. A droning voice announces the time- 6:25, and tells the Philadelphia bound travelers to begin boarding. Charlie turns toward her, looking panicked.

“Dee, I don’t want to go back. I want to go with you.” he looks afraid- of her or of home, she’s unsure. But she can’t stop a small smile from blossoming on her face.

“OK. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Twenty miles left to the show  
>  Hello, my old country, hello  
> Stars are just beginning to appear  
> And I have never in my life, before been here_
> 
> _And it's my heart, not me, who cannot drive  
>  At which conclusion you arrived  
> Watching me sit here bolt upright and cry  
> For no good reason at the Eastering sky"_
> 
> Joanna Newsom, 'Good Intentions Paving Company'


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie and Dee grapple with unfamiliar circumstances. It's still a heart to heart if they're both dead inside, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of like a reworking of the diner scene from The Gang Misses The Boat, tailored to fit this fic's plot. Happy day-after-Valentine's Day!

The sun has set now, the twilight shining through the silhouetted trees. Dee enjoys driving at night, enjoys the feeling that the route goes on forever and ever, that the road is the only thing in the world, the universe shrunken to include only her car, herself, the pavement. And Charlie.

He’s sleeping soundly beside her, the seat tilted back as far as possible, his arms resting, crossed, on top of his face. It’s been about an hour since they left the bus station, and with every mile they put between themselves and Philly, a little bit of weight is lifted from Dee’s shoulders. Her departure has been a long time coming. The gang is a dead end for Dee; she has no future with them, especially not at Paddy’s. All the gang has done for her is crush her dreams and shit on her: her appearance, her boyfriends, her prospects, her intelligence. Mac and Charlie’s stunt with faking their deaths was just the last straw in a long history of ignorance and ill will. Dee’s not going to stand for having her car destroyed and her emotions toyed with. She’s not going to take the bus every day like some sort of savage, just to spend her days wiping down an empty bar and being criticized for fun by a bunch of degenerate, entitled losers. Dee’s tired of working at the same bar, drinking the same beer, dating the same guys, living in the same tiny, stupid little sunny city with a bunch of stupid little people who don’t give a shit about her. Dee reaches over and pokes Charlie in the ribs. He stirs, absentmindedly attempting to elbow her away.

“Yo, Charlie, wake up!” He looks around, squinting in the dark. “I need you to dig around and pop in a CD. I’m falling asleep." If she’s being honest, she’s wide awake, but she feels like some company. Besides, Charlie’s been sleeping all day, he can suck it up for a while and keep his eyes open.

“Huh? Where are they?” he says, leaning over to feel around in the trash-strewn well beneath the seat.

“Glove box.” Charlie opens it, pulls out a bloated old CD booklet and begins flipping through it. “It’s all, like, I can’t, I can’t read this shit,” he says sheepishly. Dee looks over at him as he squints down at the booklet, unsure.

“Don’t worry about it, Charlie. Just pick the coolest looking label.” he smiles, nods, and continues rifling around, finally settling on a neon-colored disk and sliding it into the tray.

“OK, cool,” he says, reaching around to lift his seat back to an upright position. He looks over at her, smiling his wide smile, and he reaches over to rest his hand behind her headrest. She glances over at him quickly, returning the smile, silently acknowledging the tiny gesture of affection. She presses play.

 

“Charlie!” Dee shouts louder than necessary and leans over to punch him lightly on the shoulder. He’s spaced out, staring out of the window into space. “I’m hungry as shit. What do you want for dinner?” They’re somewhere in Maryland now, off the 95.

“I don’t care, whatever you want,” he’s still staring contentedly out the window, despite the absence of anything that could be described as a nice view. Dee continues driving, looking around for a place to stop, finally settling on an unspectacular diner. She’s already taken the key out of the ignition when she realizes they’re the only car in the desolate lot.

“What are you thinking’?” she asks him as they survey menus in a dusty booth in the corner.

“I don’t know. I can’t- does the print on this menu seem small to you?” Frustrated, he aggressively drops the menu, hitting the surface of the table with a slap.

“Uh, not really… just don’t worry about it Charlie, what do you really want? Don’t think about the menu. What are you craving?” She sets down her own menu in turn, although in a slightly gentler fashion.

“Milk steak.” Dee has trouble keeping a straight face, but Charlie looks serious. Whatever, she’ll let him have this one.

“Ok, milk steak. We’ll see what we can do about that.” She offers what she hopes is a reassuring smile when the waitress walks up.

“Hi, you two ready to order?” The waitress’s pen taps repetitively against her notepad, a blankly bored expression on her face.

“Yeah, um… You know, we’ll have two milkshakes, one chocolate, one vanilla. And a steak for him, and a burger and fries for me. Extra onions.” Dee hands the waitress their menus and turns back to Charlie. “Hey, you remember that time we stole Frank’s steaks, and then he tried to trick us into thinking it was human meat?” she says, feebly attempting to lighten the mood. _This shit hole sure has a depressing vibe_ , Dee thinks to herself.

“Oh! Yeah, God… what an adventure, huh?” he says, brightening. For a split second Dee is dazzled by his smile. She shakes the feeling off. “That was fun… I mean, not the human meat parts, but you know, cooking together. That was a nice time.” when she thinks about it, the nights they spent preparing Frank’s meats were pretty fun; Charlie had been fussing over the table setting, insisting on place mats and digging around for a vase and a flower. Dee had been in charge of cooking the actual steaks, which was nearly impossible and damn infuriating on that ineffective hot plate. But it was worth it to watch Charlie scurry around the apartment, wanting to make the occasion special. Charlie chuckles, remembering.

“Too bad Frank had to ruin it like that.”

“Well, fuck Frank. Honestly Charlie, fuck him!” Dee says, suddenly finding herself incensed by the memory of Frank’s scheme. “He never treated you nicely. He made you sleep in the hall so he could bang hookers! All he does is manipulate you, and me. He’s an awful man. You’re lucky you didn’t have to grow up with him. And you know what, Charlie? You don’t ever have to see him again if you don’t want to. If you want, you never have to think about that horrible little apartment or that horrible, tiny, piece of shit little man ever again!” _Whew. That felt good to say out loud_. But across the table, Charlie looks unsure- he’s looking at her like she’s an alien.

“I don’t know about that, Dee. I mean, he pays my rent. And we had some fun times, too, we’ve got some good memories.”

“Charlie, Charlie, I know. But you were sleeping in the trunk of his car! You have to let all that stuff go now. The gang- they, they don’t care about you or me. All they do is shit on you and make you do Charlie work. It’s not fair. You and I, we deserve more.” she’s looking deep into his eyes, trying to communicate how much the words mean- how true they are to her, and how true she wants them to be for him. “They try to keep you down, make you think you’re stupid and small. But you’re not stupid and small, and neither am I. That’s why I left. And you said you wanted to come with me, didn’t you?” Her face is hopeful; if she doesn’t convince him right now, she knows he’ll never forgive her, and now they're stuck with each other for good. Although, after the past couple hours with him, Dee can’t help but feel like being stuck with Charlie wouldn’t really be such a terrible punishment- but you won't catch her admitting that to anyone.

He looks up at her, returning her gaze with an equal seriousness. His dark green eyes glimmer in the harsh lights of the diner.

“I guess… I see where you’re coming from. You’re right. Mac and Dennis and Frank, they can be really mean to me sometimes, pushing me around all the time. But they don’t realize, they don’t know how much they need me. They need us, Dee! We’re the only ones who ever do any work at the bar! I just, I don’t want it to all fall apart. It’s my life, Dee, it’s your life too, it’s Paddy’s! it’s the Gang!” The familiar frantic tone is creeping into his voice. Dee looks around, hoping the waitress will arrive with their food to save her, but they’re alone.

“I know, Charlie, I know. But you don’t have to worry about that, please, don’t worry about that. We can set up a new life and get a new gang and a new Paddy’s if you want. And we’ll keep that one from falling apart, I promise. But you have to trust me. Haven’t you been enjoying our trip so far? You’ve seen so many birds! We’re out of Philly, and nothing bad has happened!” They both fall silent, taking deep breaths. It’s all hitting her now, the fact that she’s really left. After weeks of planning, of painstakingly deciding when and how and what to pack, she’s really actually gone. But Charlie didn’t get to do any planning, and his arrival has thrown all of her's out the window. All things considered, he’s holding up pretty well- they both are. Sort of.

“Charlie, you know,” she begins, trying to make her voice as soft as possible. He looks up and their eyes meet. “I know we both can be, pretty mean to each other… but I feel like, that’s just because the guys are so mean to us. I’m glad, i feel, um, i’m really… “ Dee finds herself at an unusual loss for words. “Uh… Thanks, Charlie. I’m happy you wanted to come with me.” The sentiment means a lot to her, more than he knows, more than she’s willing to admit. Dee lets her hand inch across the table until their fingertips are touching, and the contact is reassuring, so reassuring that she lets herself become a little bolder and soon her whole hand is on top of his, squeezing just a little. She leans forward an inch, and he follows suit. “I, um…” she begins, but she can’t think of anything to say. Instead, Charlie moves his hand underneath hers, and for a moment she thinks he’s pulling away- _oh shit, she’s overstepped, he doesn’t care about her, not like this, why would she even let herself think that?_ But instead he turns his hand around so their palms are touching, and their fingers interlock. He squeezes. Dee breathes a sigh of relief and leans back in her seat, enjoying the comforting warmth of his hand holding hers, (although it would be a lot nicer if he wasn’t so sweaty.) His head is shyly tilted down, but Dee can tell that he’s smiling.

“Ok, who’s chocolate, who’s vanilla?” The waitress stands in front of them, holding the shakes. Their hands pull apart quickly, suddenly repelled. “Um, you can just put them both down in the center.” Dee feels herself blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"And the tilt of this strange nation  
>  And the will to remain for the duration  
> Waving the flag  
> Feeling it drag_
> 
> _Like a bump on a bump on a log, baby  
>  Like I'm in a fist fight with a fog, baby  
> Step-ball-change and a pirouette  
> And I regret, I regret_
> 
> _How I said to you, "honey, just open your heart"  
>  When I've got trouble even opening a honey jar  
> And that right there is where we are..."_
> 
> Joanna Newsom, 'Good Intentions Paving Co.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dee has a gloomy first night away from home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> recreational drug use tag applies here, but it's pretty minor.

He’s dozed off again, unsurprisingly, by the time Dee pulls the car into the parking lot of a plain motel near Richmond. He’s still asleep when she comes out of the lobby with a room key. Climbing back into the car, she’s reluctant to wake him up; his features, often tense and contorted from the various stresses he so easily succumbs to, are tranquil in unconsciousness. 

“Charlie! Come on, help me bring my bags in the room.” he starts awake and gropes for the car door. 

Dee flicks the light on in the dismal motel room. Two twin beds, a filthy carpet, a cramped bathroom, a buzzing mini-fridge. It’s a sad, small room, but it’s 250 miles from Philadelphia. In other words: Paradise. 

Charlie lies down on a bed immediately, not bothering to remove his shoes. He looks close to passing out, face squished into the mess of pillows, eyes glazed over, staring at the wall. He even looks a little high- a thin coat of spray paint around his nose and it’d be unmistakable. She walks over to his bedside and her waist blocks his view of the wall, but he doesn’t blink. Dee claps her hands in front of face: he starts, blinks, and rolls over. The sluggishness in his response is just pronounced enough for Dee to be sure.

 

“Come on, Charlie? What’d you get into?” No response. She reaches out and shakes his shoulder, and he slumps onto his stomach. Still no response. “God damn it, Charlie! We’ve been together all day, when’d you even find the time to get shitfaced?” At this point, she’s talking to herself. His face is buried in a pillow, and for a moment Dee wants to let him suffocate, but she sighs and roughly rolls him over onto his back again. “You are a child, a stupid child, Charlie. God! I was so stupid to even think that you’d be different without the guys! Shit.” She takes a deep breath, tries to let go of her anger: The rage is best left in Philly. But Charlie’s out cold, and now is as good a time as ever to get pissed. “I left because of you, I left and I didn’t even look back, but you had to follow me! You couldn’t just let Sweet Dee get on with her own life, you had to follow her, you had to cling on to her like you always do. First, you ignore me, and then you won’t leave me alone! God damn, oh, God damn it, Charlie,” she growls and resists the urge to slap him. 

 

Instead, she rises, finds her suitcase and begins clawing through it, tossing things indiscriminately onto the bed. She unearths a ragged toiletries bag and stalks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Inside, she twists the shower on, adjusting the knobs until the water is hot enough to hurt. She strips lazily and steps in, the water shocking and uncomfortable at first, then melting into a gentle burn after a moment. Dee closes her eyes and lets the frustratingly low water pressure of the shower wash away the exhaustion. She feels her muscles relax slowly, releasing the tension the day has accumulated. Steam wraps her in a shroud of warmth and Dee lets her surroundings go fuzzy, lets her mind wander into a state of blissful semi-consciousness. For a few minutes, nothing is real; not Charlie, zoned out on the bed no more than twenty feet away. Not the hotel, grimy and impersonal. Not the dull and sprawling highways that have led her here. Certainly not Philadelphia, not Paddy's or the gang. It’s all just background noise, buzzing harmlessly behind the shower curtain. And then the heat peters out, and she’s forced to peel it back, revealing harsh lights and shiny, hard surfaces, coldly confronting her with their undeniable presence. Dee wraps herself in a towel and twists the water from her hair. Her flesh is pink, scrubbed raw, and Dee exhales slowly, allowing herself some relief.  _ Remember, you’re gone. _

 

But the reminder is hard to take seriously when she leaves the bathroom and is once again confronted by exactly what she’d left to forget: An inebriated man-child, staring at the wall. At least he’s awake now- barely. Charlie’s face is blank, his gaze hovering absently around the black screen of the television. His shoulders are hunched, body swaying side to side, unstable. He’s adrift.  _ Goddamn, the poor bastard’s really out of it. _

 

It’s not like Dee’s never dealt with this before: She’s known him long enough to have seen him high off every abusable substance in the book. But every once in awhile he can still leech a little pity out of her, especially on nights like these. 

 

“Frank, he had some, uh… weird shit on him, huh?” She offers, receiving a slow blink in response. It’s something. Charlie lies back, head tilting to face her. She can’t tell how much he’s really processing, but that’s not anything new. Dee turns away towards her suitcase and fishes around, coming up with a tattered t-shirt and the one pair of pajama bottoms she remembered to pack. She sits back down on the bed, her shoulders slumped, hair hanging in wet clumps around her face. Dee takes a breath, and once again the weight of the day comes to rest heavily upon her shoulders, and she weakly resists the urge to sink onto the floor and stay there. Instead, she roughly tugs on her pajamas and clumsily wraps her hair in her towel. Dee leans over and gives Charlie a shove on the shoulder. “Charlie! I’m going to sleep now. Don’t suffocate in your sleep or choke on your vomit or anything, OK?” Charlie’s eyes flutter open for a moment and he responds with a snort. He gives her a woozy smile and curls up, still wearing his shoes. Dee sighs. She’ll deal with it in the morning.

 

Dee really, really does not want to deal with anything when she wakes up that morning. Sunlight sneaks through dusty blinds and somehow the natural light makes the room look even more gloomy. She rolls over and is confronted by a drooling Charlie in the bed next to her, a sorry sight in his soiled San Juan burgundy tee and dirty jeans. He certainly looks worse for wear, but at least he’s alive- he’s snoring quietly, curled into a ball and twisted around the comforter. Dee shrugs herself awake and stands up, stretches and searches for her suitcase, getting dressed accompanied only by the soft sounds of Charlie sleeping. 

 

She’s brushing her teeth when she wakes him up, nudging him gently at first, then roughly, until he finally blinks awake and swats at Dee, alertness slowly creeping into his features; his eyes spark up and his brow furrows. He lifts his hand to his forehead and leans over heavily. 

 

“Goddamn, Dee,” he sputters. He lets out a groan and forcefully lies back down. “Oh, goddam, I’m hungover as shit,” He whines, and Dee rolls her eyes and stalks off to spit in the sink. 

  
“Well, you’re gonna have to suck it up, Charlie. You did it to yourself,” Dee calls to him from the bathroom. “Get up bitch. We’re getting breakfast.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"And I been 'fessing double fast_   
>  _Addressing questions nobody asked_   
>  _I'll get this joy off of my chest at last_   
>  _And I will love you 'til the noise has long since passed_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _And I did not mean to shout, just drive_  
>  _Just get us out, dead or alive_  
>  _A road too long to mention, lord, it's something to see!_  
>  _Laid down by the good intentions paving company"_  
>   
> 
> Joanna Newsom, 'Good Intentions Paving Co.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dee and Charlie go clothes shopping and have an exciting encounter in the changing rooms.

15 minutes later Dee is fuming in the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru. “Goddamnit, what is taking so goddamn long?”

“Dee, oh my god, be quiet! It’s breakfast time, you bitch!” Charlie’s leaning back as far as possible in the passenger seat, eyes squeezed shut, still in the throes of battle with his hangover. 

“What did you even do, Charlie? I was with you all night, when did you even have time to get fucked up?” she’s bitter, maybe even a little jealous. 

“I took some pills at the diner when you were in the bathroom.” 

“No wonder you were so out of it then, dickhead! Where’d you even get them?” She’s definitely jealous now- she rarely gets a chance to do anything better than glue.

“Stole ‘em from Pondy when he came over to see Frank.” Dee finally arrives at the window and barks out her order before turning to scoff at Charlie. 

“God, what a loser,” she smirks. Charlie rolls his eyes and squirms against the seat belt, arching his back and rolling his head around in a classic Charlie Kelly display of frustration. Dee pulls up to the second window. 

“Pondy… definitely someone i’m glad to be getting away from,” she adds, and Charlie gives her a dirty look.

“Dee, I swear to God, I will smack you so hard. Be quiet, you bitch!” he seethes, head in hands. A young woman behind the window holds out Dee’s order stiffly, glaring at Charlie. Dee rolls her eyes.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just a cranky bitch. Can we get some sugar packets?” Dee hands him a cup of coffee and tosses the sweetener into his lap. “Eat a dick, Charlie.”

His headache has faded by the time they pull into the parking lot of a Target outside of North Carolina. Dee turns the car off and steps out, stretching her legs. They’ve been driving for an hour or two, seemingly destinationless, and the sun is high in the sky. Charlie is still sitting in the car, spaced out and leaning his head against the window. Dee walks around to his side of the car and opens his door suddenly, sending him toppling out. He breaks his fall with this arms and has to worm his way out of his seat belt before he can stand up and get his balance. 

“What the fuck, Dee! I could’ve hit my head, you bitch!” He shouts, wiping his hands off on his dirty jeans. 

“You snooze, you lose! Come on, bitch.” Her smile is infuriating. She turns and strides off, and Charlie takes a moment to fume before jogging to catch up with her. 

Inside the store is cool, bright, and relatively uncrowded. Dee grabs a cart from a stack near the front and turns to Charlie. “Come on, we’ve got a lot of stuff to get to,” she says, grabbing his arm. They walk past the food and towards the beauty aisles. “Now that you won’t be doing Charlie work anymore, or living in squalor, you don’t have an excuse to be so gross anymore. We’re gonna clean you the fuck up.” She stops in front of a row of deodorant and tosses an extra-strong stick into the cart, before casting a look at Charlie and tossing in a few more, “Just to be on the safe side.” She continues to sidle through the aisles, throwing personal hygiene items into the cart with an unprecedented amount of joy. Charlie’s scowl grows with each addition to the cart, but he obediently trails her anyway.

They drift into the pharmacy section and Dee throws several large bottles of ibuprofen into the cart before pivoting towards the men’s clothing. “Charlie, go pick out some clothes, I need to get some things for myself. I’ll meet you back here in fifteen minutes, OK?” She doesn’t wait for a reply to walk off with the cart, and Charlie shrugs and turns away, purposefully scanning the section of the store he’s been abandoned in.

She returns 15 minutes later to find Charlie standing in front of a wall of packaged underwear, holding two different clear plastic sets in his hands and staring down at them looking unusually focused. She rolls her eyes and nudges him with the cart.

“Dee! I can’t decide which brand to get. I don’t remember what kind my pair at home was.” Dee looks closer at the package; ‘Men’s Long Underwear.’ _Oh, jeez._ Dee snorts, a mixture of contempt and laughter. 

“Just get them both, Charlie. Get every brand, it doesn’t matter. Just get some regular underwear, too.” Charlie grins and drops both sets into the cart with glee. 

“Ok, Ok, but I need to get some other clothes too,” he says, walking away from her. Dee sighs and follows him. 

“Seriously? You spent all this time picking out a pair of long johns?” Charlie is barely paying attention to her, focusing instead on a clearance rack of plain t-shirts. 

“Well, I wanted to get the right kind, Dee. Use your head.” He looks at her like she’s an idiot and grabs several t-shirts off the rack without looking at them before walking away from her again. 

“Charlie!” She shouts at the back of his head and several shoppers turn to shoot her dirty looks. “These shirts are all XL, dummy! You couldn’t even read two letters?” She puts the shirts back on the rack and grabs some mediums instead. 

“God, Dee, get off my back!” You’re not my mom! By the way, what size pants do I wear?” He’s stopped in front of a wall of denim, looking enchanted. Typical. 

“Why on earth would I know that?” She sighs. “Just get whatever looks right and you can try them on.” Charlie shrugs and begins snatching jeans off the shelves indiscriminately. 

The changing rooms are cramped and disorganized, but if Charlie notices, he doesn’t let on. Instead, he seems thrilled, making exaggerated poses in the mirror and grinning. Dee laughs and hands him a stack of clothes. 

“Hand me the ones that don’t fit, and decide which ones you want to get, OK?” Charlie nods and begins to unbutton his jeans. “Hey! Charlie! Close the door first, God!” Dee shuts the door to the changing room forcefully without waiting for a response.

“Sorry, I forgot you were there,” He says sheepishly from behind the dressing room door. 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Dee hears a muffled grumble in response. “You know, a lot of girls would have taken that sort of thing as an invitation,” she adds. For a moment she feels guilty for saying it- she can practically feel him squirming in the changing room stall, and it’s not like she isn’t accustomed to Charlie’s forgetfulness. But she’s bored, and still a little bitter that he left her out of his fun last night with those pills. She’s gotta get her revenge somehow, right? 

There’s no response from Charlie. Dee’s just about to open her mouth to prod him further when she’s startled by a loud thwack against the door of the stall; Charlie’s thrown a pair of jeans over the top. 

“I don’t want those, they’re too big for me.” Dee pulls them off the door without a word and leaves them on the floor. 

Charlie goes through another three pairs before he finds some that suit him. He flings the door open and grins, proudly gesturing towards his legs. Dee smiles despite herself; he looks pretty cute standing there looking so satisfied with himself, and the clean blue jeans, although nothing special by themselves, are certainly an upgrade from his usual tattered, ill-fitting pair. 

“Nice, Charlie! Spin around, let me see ‘em!” She says, playing along with his excitement. He turns around and offers another playful gesture. “Easy there, Vanna White.” Dee hands him another stack of clothes. “We’re not done yet.” 

Dee found herself laughing at nothing as Charlie continued to try on clothes. She couldn’t explain it, but it felt different to be around him now, without the gang’s presence looming over her, without the threat of an incoming attack or insult hanging in the air. She felt like Charlie could feel it too, because the grin hanging on his face the next time he swung open the door felt genuine and easy-going in a way she couldn’t remember ever seeing in him before. She stifled another unfounded laugh.

“Um, I think that I don’t want these, but these are alright,” he handed her two different stacks of clothing before ducking his head. “I just realized something Dee, This is the first time I’ve gone clothes shopping since that time you and me went to Fatty Magoo’s store. Remember that?”

“Oh, yeah! And you stole all those clothes!” Dee nodded and handed him a stack of t-shirts. He took them and started to close the door, but Dee reached out and grabbed his hand. “Don’t worry about it, just leave it open. It’s easier this way.” Dee felt emboldened by the notion that she was just screwing with his head, but her heart beat a little faster and she knew that at least a small part of her was being sincere. Charlie looked confused, but he withdrew his hand from the door and started to take his shirt off anyway. He dropped his dirty San Juan tee on the ground and Dee tried to distract herself from his half-nakedness by picking it up. The shirt was stained in countless places and inexplicably damp. Dee tried to fold it and found that she couldn’t remember how, suddenly -and more than a little embarrassingly- entranced by the small shirtless man in front of her, currently struggling with a too-small t-shirt that he was trying and failing to take off. His arms were tangled above his head, tugging unsuccessfully at the hem. Dee stood up and walked towards him.

“Calm down, Charlie. Let me help you.” He stilled and Dee helped him to squirm free of the garment. Suddenly they were standing eye-to-eye, inches apart. Charlie was shirtless, breathing heavily, and then the distance between them, small as it was, had been closed, and they were touching, chest-to-chest, lips-to-lips. 

Maybe it was revenge for getting high without her. Maybe she was just trying to fuck with his head. Maybe she didn’t mean it, maybe it was just a joke. Regardless, they were kissing, and it felt really, really good. As much as Dee would like to think that the reason she had her tongue down his throat was some sort of half-baked revenge plot, she couldn’t deny that he looked damn good shirtless in his brand new jeans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"All the way to the thing we've been playing at, darlin'_  
>  I can see that you're wearing your staying hat, darlin'  
> For the time being all is well  
> Won't you love me a spell? 
> 
> _This is blindness beyond all conceiving_  
>  Well, behind us the road is leaving, yeah, leaving  
> And falling back  
> Like a rope gone slack" 
> 
> Joanna Newsom, 'Good Intentions Paving Co.'
> 
> oh boy! This chapter was a tough one, but I figured after 4,000 words it was time to make something happen between these two. If you've stuck around through three whole chapters of no action, THANK YOU! I hope this is a sufficient reward for your patience although I know it isn't really.
> 
> This will probably be the last update for a little while. Certainly not forever, but I need to get farther ahead with this before I post again. When I started writing this I had no direction for it at all, and I feel like this story deserves a real plot. Hopefully the next time I update it will have some sort of semblance of a beginning middle and end.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dee ponders her past and her feelings for Charlie. It's Pinin' time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very Dee-centric, but don't worry, everything pays off and we get some more stuff from Charlie in the next chapter. Hopefully this is a sufficient tide-over, because I got super stuck after this! Anyway, I really hope you enjoy reading and chapter six is on the way! Thanks!

Waiting in the checkout line is one of the most painful experiences of Dee’s life. She doesn’t bother with manners when they get to the front, grumbling impatiently and snatching Frank’s credit card from the man behind the counter after what feels like a million years of scanning, bagging, paying, and whatever the fuck else the dickbag was doing behind his goddamn register. She tipped their bags into the cart and practically ran out of the store, Charlie trailing her silently. Abandoning him to the task of putting the bags in the trunk, Dee got in the car hurriedly and rubbed her palms on her jeans. She fumbled in her pockets for the keys, jammed them into the ignition and blasted the AC. Casting a glance in the rearview mirror, Dee checked her reflection- hair messed, cheeks red, eyes wild. She hoped she looked more sexy than feral and quickly swiped on some lip balm as Charlie hopped into the passenger’s seat. Get a grip. Her gaze drifted over him and landed on his hands, folded together in his lap. Fuck it. She leaned over, twisted around the stick shift to press her mouth to his. He jolted, surprised, but reciprocated after a second. His hands slid from his lap to her hips and ran up and down her sides as she kissed him, her own hands grasping the sides of his face. He tasted like Splenda. 

Dee leaned back and sat heavily in her seat. They both took deep breaths, and Dee’s head swam for a moment before she reached over and put the car in drive. She pulled out of the parking lot with a newfound urgency, and without thinking she reached her hand out to the side and grasped at nothing. Uncertain, Charlie took her hand in his. She squeezed and let out a sigh, blissful and impatient. 

The lack of a destination is the only part of Dee’s original plan that she’d managed to cling to. Every other intention she started out with has been thrown out the window, and it’s Charlie’s fault. Why’d the fucker have to be so goddamn endearing? Dee shakes her head. Get a grip! He’s not endearing, he’s not adorable, he’s not interesting, he’s not attractive. OK, he’s attractive, but he’s not the other stuff. Or, he isn’t supposed to be. It’s fucking infuriating, all the ways her best-laid plans have been shit all over. And all because of some stupid, insignificant little feelings. The issue, really, isn’t with the kissing, it’s with the emotions. It’s the affection she wants to show him and so desperately wants to receive. Making out in Target isn’t supposed to feel monumental. It’s not supposed to make you want to fuck your childhood friend’s brains out and cook him breakfast. It’s not supposed to crack your heart open. 

Dee’s history with relationships isn’t… well, great. In fact, every single boyfriend she’s had in the past five years has either fucked her over or been fucked over by her. And that’s how it works. You meet a guy, you have sex, maybe you hang out after that for a week or two and then, naturally, something goes wrong. That’s the way it’s always been, that’s the way that she is. Or, at least, that’s the way that everybody tells her she is. 

But Charlie feels different, he always has. He’s special to her, has been ever since high school. She can remember the day they met pretty clearly: She’d been hanging out near the dumpsters behind the school, smoking alone. Her back had been killing her all day, the brace digging into her ribs and sending shooting pains up her spine. He’d shown up in his dirty horse t-shirt and ripped jeans, hands in his pockets, muttering to himself. He didn’t expect to see her. 

“What’re you doing here?” he said. 

“What does it look like I’m doing, dickwad?” She took a long drag from her cigarette and then exhaled, trying to look cool and failing miserably. She leaned against the wall of the school and the brace knocked against it at an angle, sending a burst of pain up her back. She winced.

“You OK?” his concern surprised her; usually insulting a guy she barely knew would send him sulking away, or maybe even cursing her out. But he just looked worried. 

“Yeah, I guess. I’m fine. The brace is just kind of being fucky today.” She tried to sound like she didn’t care, but couldn’t contain her pained expression. He was unconvinced.

“Let me take a look at it,” he said, walking over to her, suddenly confident. “I’m actually pretty handy with this stuff… machinery, and whatnot.” He was lying. 

He’d fiddled with the back brace for a few minutes, pulling and poking at it, but he was gentle, and she didn’t really mind the company. And then he hit some sort of sweet spot, and the brace loosened marginally. The pressure receded and she breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Holy fuck… Thanks, dude, that’s so much better.” She turned around to look at him, and the pride on his face was so pure and well-meaning, she had wanted to kiss him right there.

But she didn’t. Instead, she stepped away from him and offered a small smile. He grinned back, unabashed. She offered him a cigarette, and that was that. They were friends. Dirtgrub and the Aluminum Monster, Charlie and Dee.

She’d never admit it, but that smile would always have that effect on her -the good-natured satisfaction brightening his whole face and crinkling the corners of his eyes- it lit a fire in her stomach. She wanted to kiss him a lot lately.

Even though they spent so much time insulting and manipulating each other, Charlie had shown her more kindness during their friendship than anyone else had in her life. He was stupid, filthy, sometimes bitter and mean and selfish, just like her. But he was also kind-hearted and sweet and open, especially with her, and she felt his pain. She wanted to be around him all the time, not just around him, alone with him. She wanted to touch him and be touched by him. She wanted to let him fiddle with her back brace, she wanted to make him smile.

Three hours pass before Dee stops the car again. Another cheap motel in another small town, but the air in the car is charged and it feels like the most important car in the most important motel in the most important town in the world, because there they are, Charlie and Dee, sitting next to each other with the taste of each other’s lips still somehow lingering. 

“Wait here, I’ll check us in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Well, I saw straight away that the lay was steep  
>  But I fell for you, honey, as easy as falling asleep  
> And that right there is the course I keep..._
> 
> _And no amount of talking  
>  Is going to soften the fall  
> But, like after the rain, step out  
> Of the overhang, that's all"_
> 
> Joanna Newsom, 'Good Intentions Paving Company'


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie thinks about his feelings for Dee and their relationship takes a turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, OK!!! I'm posting this sooner than I was expecting to, but I'm just super excited about this fic!!! Hope you like it. This chapter is probably the most mature, so, enjoy! We finally get some real stuff from Charlies POV, which I have a habit of completely neglecting. (I relate probably a little too much to Dee...)

Charlie opens the door to their room for Dee and she steps inside, drops her bags by the floor, flicks on the lights. The room is dull, ordinary in every way, save for one electrifying detail: the bed. Emphasis on the ‘the’, i.e. singular.  _ Fuck.  _

Dee walks inside, seemingly unbothered and painfully confident. Kneeling, she silently extracts her toothbrush and a pair of sweatpants from her suitcase and seals herself in the bathroom. Charlie, half-stunned and half-spaced out, absentmindedly rips open the packaging of a pair of long underwear and changes lazily, staring at the bathroom door.

If only he had X-Ray vision, and he could watch her - not in a creepy way, but in an ‘I wonder how you act when nobody’s around to see’ way. He isn’t blind- he knows the way she changes, conforms and twists to fit the circumstances. God forbid somebody were to witness a moment of sincerity, not after 30 years of careful superficiality. Charlie’s met a thousand different Dees, variations carefully constructed to protect their host, slices of her real self that she offers to critics and prying eyes. The nervous smile and shifty eyes she adopts when interacting with strangers or victims, the slick grin and expressive eyebrows she puts on for men and anyone else she happens to be aggressively flirting with, the phony laughter and wide-eyed watchfulness that practically scream; “give me attention!” The schemer, the slut, the performer.

He knows she’s more than that, he sees it in her; brief flashes of meaning, of kindness, of hope. He wants to see them more often, to inspire those moments in her. He wants to be the cause of her joy and he wants to bask in it. When Dee is content, she shines like the sun, beaming down on him. It's euphoric when she smiles- he wants to see her smile. He wants to make her smile, he wants to make her want to smile; because of him, for him.

He just wants to see her relax a little bit, soften up just enough to spit out something genuine. Unfortunately the only time you can count on Dee to be honest is when she’s furious with you.

She emerges then, and he startles. Backlit in the bathroom doorway, she looks extra striking, her face is sharp and lean, eyes piercing even in the dim light. Her hair is unbrushed, billowing, and Charlie’s struck by the desire to touch it. She’s wearing a thin camisole and the sweatpants now, pajamas. No bra, which Charlie tries- and fails- not to notice.

She sits down on the bed slowly, and he can tell immediately that she’s uncomfortable, her movements purposeful and stiff. She flips her hair back behind her shoulder and the action is so unfamiliar, so unlike her, that it startles him. He almost laughs but catches himself.

“Dee. Are you alright?” When she turns around he looks so genuinely concerned she thinks he’s making fun of her, but his expression doesn’t change when she scowls at him.

“Yeah, yeah! I’m totally fine.” Unconvincing.

“Dee, come on. You don’t look fine.” She shoots him another suspicious look, but the worry in his eyes remains. He shifts then so that they’re sitting in the same position, shoulder to shoulder, legs straight out ahead. Four feet sticking up in a row, one pair quite a bit larger- and bonier- than the other. They’re both stiff for a minute, the air between them tense. Dee’s reminded of their first meeting, him standing so close to her, focused, fiddling with her brace. He wanted to make her feel better-  _ her, _ the weird girl who smokes alone and calls everyone a dick and has the creepy twin brother. He didn’t even know her, and he wanted to help her out. She turns her head to look at him and he gives her that smile again, his eyes crinkling at the corners like they always do. This time when the urge to kiss him wells up inside her, she doesn’t shove it down. Instead, she tilts her head and goes for it.

He doesn’t hesitate for a moment, his lips moving against hers with a surprising enthusiasm. They kiss each other quickly, mouths darting side to side, pulling back for quick, sharp breaths and then diving back in. Their noses knock together and Dee forces herself to slow down. She tilts her head back as Charlie travels from her lips to her neck, the warmth of his stubble jolting and scraping against her collarbone.

Charlie kisses like he does everything else: a Frantic oscillation between frenzied urgency and brutal sluggishness. He pauses at her collarbone and Dee wonders if he’s decided he wants to stop when suddenly his hands are everywhere, skidding up her back and through her hair. She leans into him and they shift together, and then he’s moved back up to kiss her on the lips. He slows down, they reach a short-lived rhythm, and then he’s wiggling and she doesn’t know exactly what he’s up to, just that he’s moving too fast. She sits up and reaches out to him, resting her hands on his shoulders.

“Charlie, slow down.” He takes a few deep breaths and nods, eyes swimming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"It had a nice a ring to it  
>  When the ol' opry house rang  
> So with a solemn auld lang  
> Signed, sealed, delivered, I sang_
> 
> _And there is hesitation  
>  And it always remains  
> Concerning you, me  
> And the rest of the gang"_
> 
>  
> 
> Joanna Newsom, 'Good Intentions Paving Company'


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dee and Charlie independently come to grips with their feelings for each other after finally sleeping together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Two chapters in two days? Very unlike me, but I won't question it... enjoy! BTW, this is the penultimate chapter. Uh oh.

“Dee.”

She’s lying on her side, all the way at the edge of the bed when the whisper reaches her.  _ Oh, fuck. _

“Dee!” A little louder now, urgent. She groans and turns onto her back.

“Yes, Charlie?” She stares up at the ceiling, washed-out blue in the moonlight. She doesn’t know what time it is, only that it’s late.

Charlie props himself up on his elbow so that he’s looking down at her. She stubbornly continues to stare straight ahead, not returning his gaze.

“Um… well, I was just wondering, I mean, how was that?” He sputters.

Dee glares at him incredulously.  _ What is this, high school? Who asks that?  _

“Um, it was fine. It was good….” Better than good. Really good, great. Better than it ever is- but he doesn’t need to know that. “Oh God, Charlie, you’re not a virgin, are you?” 

“No! No, no, I’m not…. I was just wondering.” 

“OK, well, you can stop. We’re both adults here, If I hadn’t enjoyed myself, I would have let you know. Now, can we please go to sleep now? I’m very tired.” She doesn’t wait for a response before turning away from him. Mercifully, he doesn’t push it. 

That night she dreams that he has his arms around her. When she wakes up, he’s curled up on the edge of the other side of the bed, his back turned.

Dee rises and gets dressed in silence. The room feels different than yesterday- still bland as ever, but the air is heavier, almost humid. There’s something hanging over her, something important. A weight slowly settles on her shoulders. Dee grabs her keys and leaves the hotel room, closing the door softly so as not to wake Charlie.

She just needs to be away from him for a few minutes, so she can think. Not about him, about something else. Think about where she’s going, and what she plans to do there. She tries to imagine a destination, a nice apartment in a nameless city in the west, a small suburban condo farther south. A waitressing job at a nice restaurant, maybe a little more bartending. Acting at a local theater, being part of a community. And then his face floats to the forefront of her mind, and it’s all she can focus on. Charlie, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. Charlie, smiling at her from across the hotel room. Charlie, eyes closed, kissing her. Charlie, gasping underneath her. Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.

It feels so silly, sitting in her car and staring into space, fixated on a man sleeping alone in a room a few feet away from her.  She doesn’t feel these things, not usually. She brushes men off as easily as swatting a fly, dismisses them without a second thought. Maybe that’s sad, but it  _ worked,  _ and it was easy. Charlie is not easy. 

But the more she thinks about him, the less she feels she needs it to be easy. Since when is anything good easy? Acting isn’t easy, but she loves it. Giving birth wasn’t easy, but she ended up with twenty thousand dollars. Leaving Philly and the Gang was certainly not easy, but here she is, five hundred miles away, falling in love. Falling in love with  _ Charlie Kelly _ ! What the fuck? 

It’s terrifying. As soon as the thought enters her mind, she tries to banish it, clutching the steering wheels with white knuckles, trying to force herself to take it back.  _ I’m not in love, I’m not in love, I’m not in love. _

But she’s lying to herself, she has been since the day she found him in the trunk of Frank’s car. The way he looked at her at the bus station, eyes pleading, like he never wanted to leave her side. He was beautiful, and he wanted her.  _ What the fuck? _

Dee leans over and rests her forehead on the steering wheel, breathing deeply. After a moment she leans back and steps out of the car. The sun is peeking out now against the dawn, the sky a dim blue wash. She steels herself and walks back into the room, where Charlie is still sleeping, unmoved. She doesn’t disturb him. Instead, she crawls back into bed, carefully sliding over so that they’re almost spooning. She leaves an inch of space between them and closes her eyes, relishing his nearness. She lets herself drift off into a light sleep.

It’s bright in the room when he wakes up, slowly blinking into a dreary consciousness. He rolls over to turn away from the window and is surprised to find himself face to face with a snoozing Dee, her face bathed in gloomy sunlight, hair strewn around the pillows and flopping over her face. He half expected her to have left, or at the very least to be on the very edge of the bed, as far from him as possible. It certainly wouldn’t surprise him, if she had left. She left him before, without a second thought. It was just an accident he ended up joining her- he is her burden to bear, her unwanted companion. Charlie is to Dee as the eighty alley cats are to Charlie. God, he misses those alley cats.

But he lets himself feel good about it, takes a moment to gaze at her peacefully, pleased with himself. Waking up to her is certainly preferable to Frank. 

Her eyes open slowly, wide and shiny. The light creeps through the Venetian blinds and paints stripes of shadow on the white bedspread, where their legs are tangled together in a jumble of comforter. His instincts tell him to go limp, close his eyes, loudly deny that he was watching her sleep. Instead, he smiles.

“Good morning.” He says, a bit hesitantly. She stares back at him and he’s terrified that she hates him, regrets sleeping with him. Maybe she’s thinking of a way to tell him she doesn’t like him that way, or how to kick him out of bed. Maybe she wants him to leave for good, figure out a way back to Philly.

But she returns his grin after a moment, keeps staring at him with glistening clear-blue eyes. She rises slightly and leans in slowly to kiss him, a leisurely, unhurried kiss. The confident smoothness in her movements is thrilling; she’s not kissing him on a whim, there’s no fear of regret in the way she touches him. There’s no need to rush, like in the changing room. She’s kissing him because she wants to, free of insecurity or impulse. It’s comforting, and his heart is filled with a throbbing warmth for her. She pulls back after a long time, and the look in her eyes as she draws a breath is more reassuring than any spoken affirmation could be. 

“Wow,” he breathes. When her smile somehow widens, she becomes the sun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"And in our quiet hour_  
>  I feel I see everything  
> And am in love with the hook  
> Upon which everyone hangs 
> 
> _And I know you meant to show the extent_  
>  To which you gave a goddang  
> You ranged real hot and real cold but I'm sold  
> I am home on that range" 
> 
> Joanna Newsom, 'Good Intentions Paving Company'


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the final leg of Dee and Charlie's trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooh boy. It's the last chapter. This was super hard to write and pretty damn excruciating to finish, but so so so worth it. Thank you so much to everyone who read and especially everyone who kept coming back for updates- i would never have finished this without you. I really hope you enjoy!

Charlie says it two weeks later, in Atlanta on their way to Florida - to spend some time at the beach. Sitting at a picnic table outside a barbeque joint off the highway, Dee is dripping pieces of pulled pork from her overstuffed sandwich onto her makeshift tin foil plate. The sun is high in the sky and the umbrella casts a long shadow across her face, so the top of her head is shiny and golden while her nose and mouth are cast in shadow. She shrugs, shifting a chunk of hair out of her way. When she looks up at him, her eye catches the light for a second and the grin she shoots him is so offhanded, unabashed - an instinctual gesture, unplanned and uncalculated - that the words simply tumble out of him, a natural response to her fluid sincerity. 

“I love you.” Spoken quickly and quietly, he wants to look away from her but forces himself to hold her gaze. She looks shocked for a moment, her face frozen blankly. “Don’t think about it, Dee… You don't have to pretend, just let it… Just, be.” He adds, afraid of a crafted response to such a spontaneous announcement; The possibility of a meaningless, canned blow-off is more painful than a heartfelt rejection. But she relaxes quickly, takes another bite of her sandwich. She takes a torturously long moment to chew and swallow before looking back at him.

“Love you too,” She says with an assured steadfastness. It isn’t a fleeting, emotional declaration, but a solidly genuine response, equally thrilling and affirming. Charlie nearly gasps out of relief, lets his shoulders slump, leans forward and rests his elbows on the table. He gives her a quick, barbeque sauce-filled kiss. They share a smile and continue eating in silence, a breeze swaying the surrounding tree branches. Wordlessly, Dee points at a pigeon hopping about at a table across from them. Charlie chuckles and tosses a chunk of hamburger bun at it. They share a moment of delighted speculation as the pigeon pecks at the scrap, then return to their meal, the air between them thick with affection. 

**EPILOGUE**

It isn’t sudden, the process of settling down. They don't discuss it, don't pick a place or scout locations. They simply end up sticking around; a spontaneous trip to the shore turning into a daily visit, a hotel room turning into an extended stay into a six-month lease, a local bar turning into a part-time gig. It’s so gradual they don’t realise it until one day, nine months after leaving, they’re suddenly at home. 600+ miles from Philadelphia, officially ‘estranged’ from the gang, and they're at home - together. 

It’s a Sunday morning, hot as hell in mid-July, and they're avoiding the humidity in the air-conditioned bedroom. Dee is reading an InTouch magazine out loud to Charlie. The blinds are drawn and they sit close, casually pressed against each other.

“Do you ever wonder what’s up with Mac, Dennis and Frank?” Charlie says, turning to look at Dee. She nods.

“Yeah. A lot, actually. Maybe we should call?” She checks her watch. “It's eight o’clock, they won't be awake.” 

“We could leave a message on the phone at the bar,” Charlie suggests, relieved that Dee shares his curiosity and hoping, a little shamefully, that he won't actually have to talk to anyone. Dee reaches for her cell and dials the number from memory. It rings and goes to voicemail.

“Hey, gang. It’s Dee. And Charlie.” Dee says, and Charlie leans over to speak into the phone. 

“Hey, Mac. Frank, Dennis.” He has no idea what else to say. 

“Um, we just wanted to call to, um, see if you guys are dead or whatever. Hope the bar hasn't burnt down or rotted away now that Charlie isn't around to do the dirty work.” She shoots him a shaky smile, attempting to reassure him. “Anyway, uh, yeah. Hope everyone's alive. Dennis, um, I love you. I know I never said it back, but, um, you're my brother. Mac… We never got along, but… I guess I hope you're keeping Dennis happy. You two did always belong together… Still do, I guess. Frank, thanks for never cancelling those credit cards I stole. Also, hope you don't mind I took your car.” She hands the phone to Charlie and quickly looks away, staring at the wall and willing away the tears forming in her eyes.

“Hi, guys. Yeah um, hope you’re well. Frank, hope the apartment’s okay, Mr Hwang isn't giving you too hard a time, is he? Mac… Hope Project Badass is going well. Dennis, uh… Miss you, buddy. Miss all of you. Take care of Paddy’s, alright? Bye.” He hangs up and exhales forcefully. They both stare at the phone in silence together, waiting for something. Nothing happens, and after a moment, Dee returns the phone to its place on the nightstand. She flips the page of her magazine with one hand, and the other slowly roams across the bedspread to rest on top of Charlie’s. She squeezes once, quickly, and withdraws her hand. 

Charlie repositions himself so they’re side by side, his left arm pressed against her right and their legs four straight stalks. She tilts her head to rest on his shoulder and sighs against him. 

“Dee?”

“Charlie?” A pause. 

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"And I do hate to fold_  
>  Right here at the top of my game  
> When I've been trying with my whole heart and soul  
> To stay right here in the right lane 
> 
> _But it can make you feel over and old_  
>  Lord, you know it's a shame  
> When I only want for you to pull over and hold me  
> 'Til I can't remember my own name" 
> 
> Joanna Newsom, 'Good Intentions Paving Company'


End file.
